


You & Me (Still, I Loved You)

by Inky



Series: You & Me Collection [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Post-S7, when will Shiro get to mack on Krolia's son in peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 18:22:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16603187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky/pseuds/Inky
Summary: “Hey,” says the first officer.“Hey,” says the second officer.“Hey,” says Keith.“He just. Had. Something in… his. Teeth,” says Shiro, and Keith's not sure he has a single brain cell left.





	You & Me (Still, I Loved You)

**Author's Note:**

> and the third installment of You & Me is here... I really love this series, guys, I couldn't let it go
> 
> As always, this series is inspired by @[orcacove](https://twitter.com/orcacove) on twitter, who made the amazing observation of 'what if Shiro was in the Green Lion during season 7 because Krolia banished him there for dating her son'. bullshit ensued. toby, if you're reading this, please. feed me more.
> 
> This fic works as a standalone, but I highly suggest reading the first two, [You & Me (Don't Tell Your Mother)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15712773) and [You & Me (Mother Already Knows)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15847440), for the full context of this series, as well as understanding the callbacks.
> 
> \--[elle](https://twitter.com/weavelle)

“Keith.”

Shuffling footsteps, a sharp intake of breath. Smattered giggles, the _swish_ of calloused fingers drawn over freshly pressed cotton, and a dull _thump_.

“Keith. _Keith_.”

“Shh. You’re going to blow our cover.”

The low timbre of his voice quiets into a growl. “You’re the one who keeps grabbing my—”

“Yeah… you like that, don’t you?”

“Mm. Maybe...”

“Heh. C’mere, I’m gonn— _officers on your six!”_

“ _Ope_ —“

Two figures, shrouded by the dim light of the Garrison after hours, duck into a small alcove as a duo of officers walk down the hall, flashlights in hand. With bated breath, they wait for the officers to pass, as if they could honestly do anything to the god damned _Captain of the Atlas_ and the _Head of Voltron._

Still. The roleplay is fun, at least.

“That was too close for comfort,” Shiro murmurs. Keith, pressed up against the wall with Shiro’s chest flush up the length of his back, gives him a half-smooshed smile. Because he’s Keith, and he’s just Like That, he gives a lazy, backwards roll of his hips that has the captain hissing behind him.

“I’m comfortable right here,” purrs Keith, and he tries to muffle his bark of a laugh as Shiro groans low in his ear, grabs his shoulder, and whirls him around. Keith smirks up at Shiro, admiring the annoyed-not-annoyed crease of his brow, the set of his handsome jaw, and the way his mussed-up forelock tumbles over his forehead in a unkempt mess. Playful, Keith pokes out his tongue and touches it to his top lip. “What?”

“You know what.”

“I mean. Okay. Sure.”

“Behave, Keith.”

“Behave machine broke.”

“ _Stop_.”

“The audacity of you pretending you’re not a dirty rule-breaker just like me is astounding. Old-timer.”

 _That_ coaxes a little, cocked grin to Shiro’s face. He tips his head, and Keith bites his lip as he sees Shiro’s hands shift to press against the wall on either side of his head. His face is illuminated by the soft blue light of his prosthetic arm.

“I’m trying _very_ hard to be the face of the Garrison like they want me to be,” he says quietly. He tips his head a little, glancing once at the five shiny, gold bars on the shoulder of his uniform. “I’m trying to set an example for the youth.”

“God, you really are an old man.”

Shiro’s finger is immediately on Keith’s lips—the prosthetic index finger, Keith notices, because it sends a shiver right down to his core. Knees weak, he moves his lips to press a teasing kiss to the metal pad of Shiro’s finger.

“As I was _saying_. You’re making it hard to be good.”

Keith rolls his eyes, kisses Shiro’s finger one more time, and grabs the prosthetic arm with both hands. He pushes it down, and Shiro raises one impressed eyebrow as the device gives a strained hum with the disruption in the electromagnets. Keith’s arm muscles bulge with the effort to hold Shiro’s finger away from his lips, and both of them giggle quietly as Shiro fights back, momentarily pulling Keith up onto his tiptoes with the power of the device.

“You can afford to have a little fun, Shiro,” Keith whispers. “It’ll be like old times. You and me. Golden boy and the fuck up.”

“You were never a fuck up,” Shiro whispers, and he seals those words with a kiss to the tip of Keith’s nose. “Never.”

Keith smiles a little. What a sappy dork. Still, he strokes his fingers down Shiro’s cheek, tickling the little stubbles of hair he’d missed with his razor this morning. He could totally just spend the rest of the night gazing into Shiro’s eyes, being soft and romantic with him, whispering sweet nothings...

“Stop changing the subject,” is what he says instead, and he pinches Shiro’s ear lobe to emphasize. Wincing, Shiro chuckles and shakes his head to wriggle free. Keith presses his hands into the wall to push himself forward, returning Shiro’s kiss. He leaves it on his chin. “Let’s go break one or twelve rules. We haven’t been able to have _fun_ since… I don’t know, since forever. Charm me like you did when I was fifteen.”

“Hey, now. I never intended to charm you when you were fifteen.”

“But you did.”

“If you were fifteen again, I wouldn’t be able to kiss you.”

Keith smirks. “I sure wanted you to, though.”

“ _Keith_.”

“It’s true. Fifteen-year-old me wanted you to teach me how. And not chaste old grandma kissing, either.”

“You know I wouldn’t have, even if I hadn’t been with Adam.”

“I’m not ashamed of my horny teenage fantasizing.”

“You don’t have to be. And I did end up teaching you how to kiss in the end, anyway. You got your wish.”

“You made me wait seven years.”

“Mm. Sorry, baby.”

Keith grins as Shiro leans in to nose at his cheek. He nips little, dry kisses onto Keith’s rapidly heating skin, pecking a short trail to his lips and claiming them for his own. It’s Keith who deepens it, ruins Shiro’s polite slip-slide of his lips to very nearly suck Shiro’s tongue out of his skull instead. His heart screams in triumph as he swallows Shiro’s groans.

He doesn’t exactly mind the idea of coming apart like this, huffing and puffing against each other in a darkened hallway like teenage rabbits.

Unfortunately, the patrolling officers have other plans as Shiro and Keith are suddenly both bathed in bright light. Yanking away from each other, they squint at the officers as their eyes adjust.

“Hey,” says the first officer.

“Hey,” says the second officer.

“Hey,” says Keith.

“He just. Had. Something in… his. Teeth,” says Shiro, and Keith's not sure he has a single brain cell left. Shiro shoves away from the wall and Keith so he can straighten and dust off the front of his uniform. The officers glance at each other. Keith stares at the ceiling. Shiro trembles, sweat beading visibly on his brow. “You know. So I was… helping him.”

“...With your tongue?” asks the second officer, which earns him a back-handed _whap_ on the chest from the first.

“Yes,” Shiro wheezes. “With my. Ton—uh. Shouldn’t—it’s… past curfew, officers.”

“Right,” the first officer says, slowly. “That’s why we’re out here. Checking… for people. Who… are breaking curfew.”

Silence.

“Well, at ease, we’re—yes. Yes, I’ve—right! Of course. Don’t let us—c’mon, K-Keith. Officers.”

Shiro grabs Keith’s wrist and tugs him out of the alcove, shuffling past the officers. Keith puts a smug look on his face as he goes, very not-subtly putting his index and middle fingers up on either side of his mouth so he can lick between them. The first officer scrunches her nose, and the second officer gives a nearly-tearful salute while he mouths _bless you._

Shiro drags him all the way down the hall and around the corner, where Keith struggles not to burst out laughing. Shiro, meanwhile, has a miniature gay panic, both hands in his hair as he paces in a small circle.

“We got caught.”

“Yeah.”

“Those officers caught me with my tongue halfway down your throat.”

“Yep.”

“This is not—professional—“

“I love you.”

“I am not—wuh—wait. What?”

When Shiro whirls towards him, Keith just puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall, head tipped back against it.

“I love you,” he repeats, simply. Never in his life would he believe that there would come a day when he could so easily say those three words, and yet here he is. Standing with his panicking boyfriend in an empty hallway on a Thursday, at eleven at night.

“Well,” Shiro huffs. His shoulders slump. “I love you, too. But—“

“Don’t care. If they narc, we can remind the Garrison that even the captain of the goddamn _Atlas_ is allowed to let his hair down a little. _Shiro_. You’re _allowed_ to be human. You’re not _actually_ Atlas. You don’t have to hold the whole world on your shoulders,” Keith insists. Shiro’s face softens further. “So hold me instead.”

In two wide steps, Shiro comes forth and sweeps Keith into his arms, once more capturing his smiling lips in a kiss. When he pulls away again, Keith chases him and catches his bottom lip with his teeth, pinching and pulling until Shiro shudders.

“Irresponsibility is a good look for you,” Keith purrs. He gives Shiro’s swollen lip an apologetic lick.

Shiro groans. “You’re _dangerous_.”

“You made me like this.”

“ _I_ made you like this? You were already a rule-breaker. I just taught you how to break the rules in a way that didn’t land you in juvie.”

“You taught me how to jump a hoverbike off a cliff.”

“That’s—very true. You’re right.”

Keith giggles—actually giggles, he’ll never get over how Shiro has made him so loose and carefree—and takes Shiro by the hips so he can pull him close. “Let me teach you how to break the rules again. I know it’s down in your guts somewhere.”

Shiro’s returning smile is cocky at first, in that young and attractive way. But then it melts into something more sincere, like he sees right through Keith’s ploy, and sees the genuine attempt to help Shiro relax.

“Well… I know for a fact that the atrium they’re putting together down in the east wing is nearing completion.”

“Oh, you mean the indoor garden that’s _strictly_ off-limits because they’re trying to rebuild decimated plant species after the invasion?”

“That’d be the one. I haven’t even been allowed in yet. But I know how much you love your nature.”

Shaking his head, Keith snickers and grabs Shiro’s prosthetic hand, tugging it along like it’s truly connected to Shiro. Shiro follows along behind him at a leisurely pace, occasionally making his prosthetic arm float upwards on Keith’s off-step so he completely misses a footfall. It surprises him every time, but Shiro’s soft laughter behind him instantly melts away the indignation of being teased.

The atrium in the east wing is more of a large greenhouse than anything, and locked to hell and back. However, Shiro makes quick work of the locking mechanism with his prosthetic arm and the panel on the wall. As the door opens with a hiss, Shiro hums thoughtfully.

“What is it?” Keith asks.

“Someone else accessed this panel about an hour ago. Not authorized personnel, I should add.”

“Hm. Someone else wants to mess around in the atrium, I guess.”

“We should be on our toes, anyway.”

“I’m always on my toes.”

“Mm. I know you are.”

It’s just on the cusp of being too warm and too stuffy in here for Keith’s comfort, but all he and Shiro have to do is strip off their uniform jackets and tie the sleeves around their waist as they head inside. The door shuts behind them and re-locks, leaving them to their own devices. The atrium is huge, circular, and the dome overhead is in night mode. Projected stars travel slowly across the artificial sky, creating a tiny planet within the room.

In here, the only sound is the trickling of the small creek that runs from one side of the atrium to the other, winding around and around in a zigzagging path. There’s some species of wildlife in here, as well—Keith assumes it’s just part of the ecosystem. Or maybe the crickets chirping and the frogs croaking are just some part of a naturistic aesthetic. He doesn’t know, but he does flash a grin over his shoulder at Shiro in unrestrained delight.

“I know we’re supposed to be breaking rules,” Keith murmurs, but he doesn’t know why he feels the need to be quiet. “But we should be careful. I don’t—we shouldn’t disturb what they’re trying to do in here.”

“Uh-huh. I agree,” Shiro says. His eyes scan across the various species of trees making up the man made forest. He looks at the moss, the boulders, and the shrubs and bushes. His eyes finally land on Keith, and his expression is tender as he takes Keith’s hand with his prosthetic and draws him nearer. “Don’t get to see this much life in the desert much, huh?”

“Or space.”

“...Want to walk for a while?”

“Yeah.”

Hand in hand, they stroll along the path that had been dug out for botanists and authorized planters. They look at the flowers and point out alien insects and small wildlife that had been introduced into the atrium. Bioluminescent moths about the size of Keith’s head flutter away as they pass the large flower where the moths had been perched. Keith watches tiny particles fall from their wings as they pass.

“Alien pollinators,” he whispers, pointing. Shiro’s too busy sniffling and trying not to sneeze from a nose full of pollen. When he finally sneezes, Keith snickers and squeezes his hand.

“‘Scuse me,” Shiro whispers back. He rubs at his nose with his flesh hand, and together they walk deeper into the atrium, until Keith’s pretty sure they have to at least be at the center, or pretty far away from the entrance.

As they come to a stop, Keith cranes his neck to peek through the trees. He spots a small, rocky clearing in the forest, where the creek empties into a pool, rung with softly glowing, bioluminescent flowers atop lily pads. He immediately decides that’s where he wants to go, and he tugs Shiro’s arm to show him.

“Over there. Look at that.”

“I see it.”

“I want to go over there.”

“That’ll take us off the trail. You sure?”

“Just step carefully.”

“I’ve got a better idea.”

Keith opens his mouth to ask, but before he can, Shiro’s prosthetic arm zooms around, scoops under his butt, and hoists him up easily. Keith scrabbles for something to grab on to, and ends up flinging his arms around Shiro’s neck. Tucked up against Shiro’s side, his butt and thighs lovingly cradled by Shiro’s absurdly big, strong arm—it’s hilarious. And kinda hot.

“Oh,” says Keith.

“Do you like that, baby?” Shiro hums. Keith purses his lips, feeling quite red in the face, but he doesn’t betray himself. He clears his throat and tries not to think of how easy it is for Shiro to manhandle him.

“Just—don’t step on anything. Be careful.”

“I will.”

Keith is quiet as Shiro concentrates on picking his way over delicate species of plants growing here. He maneuvers like he’s traversing a room with the floor covered in Legos, his brow pinched in utmost focus. Keith can’t help himself. He cups Shiro's jaw, and kisses him right on the apple of his cheek. Shiro grins, delighted, cheeks becoming rosy and warm.

The trip to the clearing really didn’t warrant Keith being up off the ground, but he’s still reluctant to get down once Shiro reaches a place where they can safely walk on green grass and soft dirt. Stepping away from Shiro, Keith goes right to one of the large boulders sitting at the edge of the forest pool, where he turns around and leans against it. Shiro watches as Keith pretty much drapes himself across the face of the boulder, arms open and inviting. With an audible gulp, Shiro stumbles forward to get into Keith’s space, grab at his hips, his waist, anything.

“How many times… are you going to take my breath away just by being you?”

 _As many times as it takes_ , says the romanticist inside of Keith. Instead what comes out is, “You need to breathe to live, Shiro.”

It earns him a bite on the tip of his nose. Keith busts out laughing, shoving at Shiro to try to get him off as he nips and bites at whatever he can get his teeth on.

Like most of their teasing, it devolves into kissing cheeks, then kissing lips, and finally exploratory hands and exploratory tongues. It’s just the way things go. Keith doesn’t think he’ll ever get bored of this, ever.

“Hey,” Shiro whispers. His lips trail up Keith’s jaw and towards his ear. Keith shudders and bites his bottom lip as he feels warm breath ghosting over the sensitive spot just below the lobe.

“Yeah?” Keith breathes back. He settles his hands on Shiro’s hips and slides them back to grope and cup at his ass underneath the coat tied around his waist. It feels spectacular in the standard issue spandex pants he’d been assigned for his uniform. Great for getting in and out of the Atlas armor quickly. Also great for grabbing double handfuls of muscular ass, in Keith’s opinion. Shiro agrees with a quiet groan.

“Say my name?”

Keith blinks, momentarily confused, before he realizes what Shiro means. His lips curve in an easy smirk. “You mean… Takashi?”

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs breathlessly, right into Keith’s ear. He shifts, reaching underneath Keith to haul him upwards and arrange his long legs around Shiro’s powerful hips. Keith gasps and moans at the very prominent bulge currently pressing against his crotch, forcing his legs wider apart to accommodate. Shiro’s voice lowers, almost a growl, and Keith wishes he could see his face. “Again.”

“Takashi,” Keith whimpers. He doesn’t even have to make a show of it; his own pounding heart squeezes the name out of him by force. “Takashi, Takashi, _please_ —“

“Mnn, yeah, that’s it—“

As Shiro makes a meal out of the side of Keith’s throat, Keith squirms and grins and tips his head back, thoroughly enjoying himself. However, as luck would have it, he’s in the middle of grinding himself down against the front of Shiro’s pants when he hears something.

A voice. And not just any voice.

Keith whips his head around, and just over the peak of the rocks, he’s able to make out Kolivan’s face, weaving through the trees.

“ _Kolivan?!_ ” Keith squeaks. Shiro stops instantly, freezing, and he lifts his head with spit-slicked lips and bleary eyes. He squints up at Keith.

“Okay, look, you can make fun of me all you want for wanting him to manhandle me when we first met, but I am _not_ into cuckholde—“

“Get your head down!” Keith hisses. He grabs Shiro by the forelock, earning a high-pitched whine of pain, and he drags both of them down to hide next to the rock.

“What’s going on?!” Shiro whispers. Keith puts his finger up to his lips, eyes wide and fierce.

“Kolivan. Is. _Here_. In the atrium,” Keith mouths. Shiro blinks at him as his face pales. Looking around wildly, Keith spots a nearby shrub and points wildly to it, making a series of hand gestures to try and convey his crazy plan to Shiro. Shiro just stares at him, making a face like he’s running on a five-dollar calculator’s processor, before putting his thumb up.

Together, Shiro and Keith snake-crawl across the ground and into the bush, backing up enough so they won’t be seen. They adjust themselves until they’re both lying on their stomachs, with a clear view of the clearing from behind the leaves. However, Keith starts to smack at Shiro’s arm.

“Get on top of me,” he breathes, urgent. Shiro gives him a look.

“My erection _will_ go away, Keith.”

Keith tries not to scream in frustration. “He’s gonna smell me! You have to cover me up!”

Keith can almost hear the click of Shiro’s brain piecing together the details. In one semi-graceful movement, Shiro gets on top of Keith, pressing him bodily into the soft dirt beneath them as he lays entirely on top of him. In any other circumstance, feeling Shiro’s impressive boner cushioned in the cleft of his spandex-covered ass would be hotter than hell. Unfortunately, Keith is much more focused on the not one, but _two_ figures who suddenly walk into the clearing.

Kolivan.

Holding the hand of none other than Krolia.

“No _fucking_ wa—“ Keith begins, but Shiro claps his hand over his mouth, muffling his exclamation.

“—trying very hard to preserve the plant and wildlife of their planet,” Krolia is saying, once she reaches the pool. Kolivan releases her hand, stopping some feet away, his arms crossed over his chest in typical Kolivan-esque behavior. Krolia kneels at the pool, reaching out to stroke the delicate petals of the glowing flower atop one of the lilypads close to shore.

“It is a noble cause,” Kolivan agrees shortly, simply. Keith watches the way Kolivan’s gaze travels over his mother while her back is turned. Never, in his entire time knowing Kolivan, has he seen such an unguarded, gentle expression. He’s glad Shiro’s hand is over his mouth, because he’d definitely not be able to stop himself from talking about it.

“It means a lot to many. It makes me wish I had gathered samples from the space whale in the Quantum Abyss,” Krolia muses. She pushes herself to her feet and turns back to Kolivan. Keith can’t see her expression from this angle. “Keith was fascinated with the wildlife on it. He and the space wolf would spend hours and hours traversing it. Trying to understand the organisms on it.”

“Hours…”

“Oh. It is the human term for around sixty doboshes, give or take a few.”

“Ah—yes, I remember.”

Krolia laughs a little—Keith doesn’t remember it being that light, almost _fluffy_. He watches his mother stroke some of her hair behind her ear, and almost can’t believe what he’s seeing. From her tone to her body language, everything screams that she’s _flirting_. He’s never seen her like this; so relaxed, carefree, and without the weight of her history and the war weighing her down. He can’t stop staring, transfixed on her and Kolivan.

“...I think… Keith’s exploring, and his curiosity… it helped him, in some way. To cope with… things he saw.”

“The visions must have been taxing.”

“Yes. Some joyous. Most tragic. He saw many that I saw, but not all.”

“But he is doing well, now.”

“Yes. He is.”

They’re quiet for a long moment. Krolia turns from Kolivan, and Keith finally gets to see her face. However, her eyes are downcast, and she crosses her arms as she stares down at the water’s edge.

“Kolivan,” she says, gentle. “Your attention and care has… it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated.”

Kolivan’s expression doesn’t change, doesn’t become any less gentle. But he also doesn’t move from his spot, his hands clasped behind his back, almost like a soldier. “I am aware.”

“...But I hurt you.”

“You have never hurt me.”

Krolia turns back, looking over her shoulder, and Kolivan finally moves to stand beside her at the edge of the pond. He offers his hand, silent and unassuming. Just an open palm, without expectation to be reciprocated. And quietly, almost _shyly_ , Krolia touches his much larger palm and lets her hand nestle there. Keith is left with mixed emotions; he’s seeing _more_ faces he’s never seen Kolivan or his mom make.

“You didn’t resent me?” Krolia asks. Despite her apparent shyness, her words are still strong, blunt. It is only a question, not an accusation. “Was there not a moment that you resented Keith for who he is?”

“No. Never. Once I knew he was your son, I felt for him as a father would for his own kit.”

“...When did you know?”

“The moment I saw his eyes.”

“He endured the _Trials_ for you,” Krolia laughs, almost incredulous. “He could’ve been _killed_.”

“Knowledge or death, Krolia.”

“ _Damn_ your traditions,” Krolia hisses, but it’s tinged with a fond little laugh. She gives a shake of her head. “What did I expect? Even during your first attempt to court me, you nearly took my ear off in my Trials.”

Kolivan smiles, faintly. He moves subtly closer to her, and lifts her hand to his chest, pressing the back of it over his heart. It must be some sort of intimate Galran gesture, Keith realizes, because Krolia jolts and reacts like she’s been kissed. But instead of jumping away, she gently pulls Kolivan’s hand back, also pressing the back of it to her own chest. Kolivan’s head tips forward, the feathery tips of his ears shifting. Keith didn’t even know they could _do_ that.

“I just want to understand,” Krolia whispers. She’s still holding Kolivan’s hand to her chest. “...Why you’re courting a woman my age. I have a fully grown kit. I’m widowed. There are weights I carry. I can’t guarantee I can fit all of you in my heart.”

“I know this.”

“And yet…”

“And yet.”

Krolia’s gaze falls, and Kolivan takes her one free hand to press it against his chest. Now they’re standing even closer together, their hands over each other’s chests. Keith really doesn’t understand the context of it, or how intimate such a custom is, but by the violet blush spreading across his mom’s cheeks, he can guess that it’s really not something just friends would do.

“You love him,” Kolivan says, low. They’re swaying back and forth, almost like a slow dance. As they move from side to side, they rotate slowly, like two planets in each other’s orbits. Krolia’s head is down, but she never moves away from him.

“I loved him,” Krolia corrects. “But he’s gone. Keith and I—we saw his grave.”

“You wanted to believe the vision was false.”

Krolia makes a soft sound, a little gasp, and Keith sees the faint, shimmering light of a tear slipping down Krolia’s cheek. He shifts underneath Shiro, straining, but Shiro’s hand tightens over his mouth. Even as Keith feels his eyes threaten to sting, he holds himself together. It helps when he feels Shiro’s lips press to the back of his head.

“The theories I came _up_ with,” Krolia whispers. Her voice is thick, wet with emotion. “The things I tried to believe in hopes that I wasn’t too late. That he hadn’t been taken from me. I wanted to believe my son _lied_ to me about his death. For a while, I _let_ myself think that.”

The swaying stops, and Kolivan just holds her as Krolia dips her head forward. The top of her head against Kolivan’s sternum, she presses her forehead to their joined hands on his chest.

“My own _son_ , Kolivan.”

She inhales again, sharp as a knife.

“ _How_ ,” she breathes. “Can you still want to court a woman like me. Why would you want a mate like me?”

“Because I love you.”

Krolia lifts her head sharply, and Keith sees fury in her eyes so similar to his own that he can barely look. She looks lost, broken, angry. Hurting. It makes her look younger, like a female version of Keith, before he learned how to handle his own emotional typhoons.

“Even after we fought? When I threw your traditions back in your face and we went halfway across the damn universe to get away from each other?” she spits out the words. “You—“

“Still, I loved you.”

“I had a _son_ with a human man!”

Kolivan never takes his eyes off of her. “Still.”

Krolia stares at him, dumbfounded. It reminds him of the face Shiro had made, when Keith had first told him he loved him. With that, Kolivan gently untangles their hands and arms, letting Krolia pull away from him. She still looks hurt and angry, her shoulders tense.

“What about your missions?” Krolia’s tone is calm, but it wavers, betraying her emotions. “The _missions_ , that were always so much more important, _every_ time we became close. You can love me after everything _now?_ You couldn’t love me over your missions, then.”

Kolivan’s ears give a little quiver again. He inclines his head, just a little, in a tiny nod.

“Your son fought me on this, too.”

“ _Good_ ,” Krolia snaps. She inhales through her nose, calming. “...Good. My son deserves to feel love, and to _prioritize_ love over war, and cherish what he has. He has fought _hard_ for a future where he can afford to nurture his emotions. I’m happy he can rest, now, with his mate, on the planet where he was born.”

“As am I.”

They’re quiet again, and Keith’s not sure exactly where either of them stand with each other. All he knows is that his heart is pounding wildly in his chest, his eyes wide as he watches the scene unfolding before him. Above him, Shiro seems to be almost holding his breath. Kolivan shifts, letting his hands fall to his sides.

“In my time in the ruins, I thought of the Marmoran lives lost to Macidus’s schemes. I thought of battle plans and escape strategies. I calculated it all in my head. I knew… _rationally_ … that my death would mean I would stop being used for my distress beacon. My death meant that more of the Marmora would _live_. But…”

“But?” Krolia whispers.

“I wanted to live. Because I wished, against all odds, _selfishly_ , that my signal would reach you. I desperately wanted to see _you_.”

Krolia’s eyes widen. Kolivan doesn’t seem to want to look at her, now, and Keith swears the color of his face deepens a couple shades.

“As my strength faded, I found solace in thoughts of you. And I found myself bitterly regretting letting you go—so many times—in favor of the mission.”

When he looks up again, his lips are pinched together in a severe expression, his brow creased. He squares his shoulders.

“I will not ask you to make enough room for all of me in your heart. But I will ask for the opportunity to show you that I cherish the pieces that I _can_ have. More than the mission. More than the universe.”

Krolia chokes out a laugh, a disbelieving laugh, and puts her hands over her face. She stands there for a moment, hiding, before her hands run back and over her short hair. It musses up her hairstyle completely, but she doesn’t seem to care.

“Irresponsibility…” she whispers, tearful. “...Looks so good on you.”

Kolivan’s lips twitch into more of a smile than Keith’s _ever_ seen him show. He steps forward, and takes Krolia’s face into his huge hands, cupping it as he thumbs away her tears.

“I can make it my mission to love you,” he offers. It almost sounds like… a joke? And it must be, because Krolia starts to laugh and hiccup at the same time. Her hands come up to hold Kolivan’s, keeping her face sandwiched between them.

“I have to put some thought into it,” she murmurs. “Keith has to be alright with this, too.”

“You could ask him,” Kolivan hums. He turns his head, looking straight at the bush. Both Keith and Shiro freeze. “Come on out, Keith.”

“You too, Captain,” Krolia says. Now she’s looking at the bush, too, with a fond little grin. “Come on, now. Don’t be shy.”

There’s a pause, and a rustling, before Shiro and Keith sheepishly crawl out from the bush, their hair full of leaves and twigs, and their clothes disheveled. Shoulders hunched, they walk hand-in-hand up to Krolia and Kolivan, who just look amused.

“Captain Shirogane,” Krolia says, her voice steel and ice, but her eyes full of mischief. Shiro stiffens. “Are you… breaking curfew… _and_ having sexual relations… with my _one and only_ son? _Again?”_

Shiro looks like he’s astral projecting.

Captain Shirogane has left the atmosphere.

He’s _gone_.

“I am… _so_ sorry, Ma’am. I’ll—I’ll take him right— _Keith_ —” he wheezes, helpless. Krolia throws her head back and laughs so hard that Kolivan has to catch her hand to keep her from toppling over. Even he’s sporting a little smirk. As Shiro tugs at Keith, trying to get him to leave, Keith tugs back and rolls his eyes.

“She’s kidding, Shiro. Mom, you guys aren’t authorized to be in here, either.”

“Ah. He caught us,” Krolia hums. She glances at Kolivan, and Keith notices that they haven’t let go of each other’s hands yet. “Shall we turn ourselves in?”

Kolivan looks down at Shiro, _obscenely_ huge compared to even the captain of the Atlas, and lets out a single snort. He gives Shiro a once-over.

“Unnecessary.”

Shiro lets out this squeaking, wheezing whimper sound that Keith knows is disaster-gay-code for _I want this alien man to pound me into the mattress in fifty different ways_ , and Keith jabs him in the side with his elbow.

“How did you guys know we were out here? Shiro was—we covered my scent.”

Krolia gives Keith a flat look, “Your scent and Shiro’s scent are so intermingled at this point that you’ve created something entirely new. You both smell the same, and it is strong.”

“We also heard Shiro sneeze,” Kolivan adds. Krolia nods.

“ _And_ we heard you laughing.”

“And I smelled—do humans have heat cycles?” Kolivan asks. Krolia makes a face.

“They certainly do _not_.”

“Ah… interesting.”

Keith could almost laugh at the absurdity of Kolivan being able to _smell_ Shiro’s goddamn _boner_ , and perhaps even Keith’s own arousal, but he doesn’t delve into _that_. Shiro’s starting to look like a ghost, so Keith keeps a firm hold on his hand to keep him from floating away.

“If you guys knew we were here, why didn’t you make us leave?” Keith asks. He feels his voice dip a little into the vulnerable zone automatically, like it usually does only when he’s alone with his mom. For once, it doesn’t embarrass him. He’s seen vulnerable sides of _everyone_ here tonight, and some he’s never even seen before. The least he can do is drop his guard, just a little, for the benefit of an unconstipated discussion.

“I’m not sure,” answers Krolia. She sounds so honest that Keith has no problems with taking that answer at face value. He even leans into her touch a little when she reaches out with the hand not occupied by Kolivan’s and picks a few twigs out of Keith’s hair. “I have difficulty confronting emotion, sometimes. I’m sure you’re familiar with that feeling.”

Keith smiles a little, and Krolia cups his cheek, stroking just beneath his eye with her thumb.

“I suppose I thought it’d be better just to show you.”

“Mom, I—just... want you to be happy. I… I knew, when we went to Dad’s grave, that I would never be able to fill… his shoes. Or…”

“Stop,” Krolia interrupts. She takes his chin and forces him to meet her eye. “No one can fill your father’s shoes, that much is true. Not even Kolivan. But don’t _ever_ think that you haven’t been able to make me infinitely happy, in infinite ways.”

“...Okay, Mom,” Keith whispers. Krolia smiles and pats his cheek. Keith glances at Shiro, who glances back at him. He still looks intimidated. Keith feels young, suddenly, like they’re two teenagers being scolded for staying out past ten, and not two grown men in their twenties.

“I know my opinion doesn’t really matter, here,” Shiro speaks up, after a brief nonverbal discussion via eye contact. His voice cracks and he clears his throat, pink in the cheeks. “But, I mean… Keith talks a lot. About how much he just wants you to have some peace, Krolia. And I don’t really know what’s going on, or if you’re asking for permission to… to date, but…”

“It’s okay with me—with us,” Keith finishes. “If you want to do this, Mom.”

He glances at Kolivan, who has been very still and silent this whole time. That faint, tiny smile hasn’t left his face. His hand hasn’t left Krolia’s.

They look good together.

“Kolivan is never going to be my dad,” Keith says, with some finality. Kolivan dips his head in a single, understanding nod. Keith returns his attention to Krolia, whose chin is starting to quiver as her eyes shine. “But… I don’t think that should stop you from loving again. I mean…”

He looks up at Shiro again, only to find that Shiro’s already looking at him, his smile soft and eyes warm.

“...It feels good. To be. You know. To love somebody.”

“Yes. It truly does,” Krolia agrees, voice thick. Keith feels the urge to shrink back at the sight of her tears again, but it feels like he’s unlocked a new stage of their relationship with her, too. So he doesn’t turn away, and accepts her tears for what they are. He understands, with sudden clarity, why Shiro once explained to him how he fell in love with the way Keith so unapologetically wears his love, his anger, and his feelings on his sleeve. He sees it on his mother’s sleeves, as well, and he decides right then and there that it is beautiful.

“I love you, Mom,” Keith says, because he feels the need to say it. Krolia lets out a damp laugh, rubs her eyes on the back of her hand, and pulls away from Kolivan so she can instead envelop Keith in her arms.

“I love you too, Keith,” she whispers into his hair. Keith shuts his eyes; he can feel the wetness of her tears on the top of his head. And then, she whispers again, so quietly that it’s only for him to hear, _“Thank you.”_

Nearby, Shiro stands awkwardly to the side, beside Kolivan. Kolivan, with his arms crossed over his chest, watches the display between Keith and Krolia with a gentle, wise expression. Shiro doesn’t look like he really knows what to do with his arms, at first keeping them at his side, then clasping them in front of him, then crossing his arms (he glances at Kolivan and seems to decide it looks like he’s copying), and finally putting his hands back down at his sides. Keith grins at him from where he’s smooshed against his mom. Shiro, looking nervous, grins back.

Then Kolivan leans towards Shiro a little, one huge hand on his shoulder, “If you ever make him cry like that, I will maim you.”

Shiro is _not_ grinning anymore.

“ _Kolivan_ ,” Krolia laughs. “He’s been through it enough. I made sure of that.”

“Ah. But it’s tradition.”

“Tradition?” Keith asks. He pulls away from Krolia to look up at her. “ _What’s_ tradition?”

“It’s really just... a game. The Marmora is very protective of its members,” Krolia explains. “And… _you..._ are a Blade of Marmora. So, we have to put your mate’s devotion to you to trial.”

“Bullshit,” Keith deadpans, instantly.

“You can’t be serious,” Shiro whispers. “This _whole time_ , you’ve—“

“Devotion or death, Shiro,” Krolia and Kolivan say at the _exact_ same time, with the _exact_ same cadence, in such a creepy fashion that even Keith goes a little pale in the face.

Pulling away from Krolia, Keith hurries to Shiro’s side to steady him, because it looks like his poor boyfriend is about to either spontaneously combust or melt into a puddle. He glares at Kolivan and Krolia.

“Okay, then by _tradition_ , shouldn’t I now be torturing _you guys_ for _your_ relationship?” he questions, heated. Krolia and Kolivan glance at each other.

“Well. You could, in theory,” Kolivan muses. Krolia’s lip curls into a very Keith-like smirk.

“...Or you could also leave us alone, and it will spare you from seeing your _mother_ doing the things _I_ have to see _you_ do with Shiro.”

Keith decides he hates that, _immediately_. He must’ve put a really impressive disgusted face on, because Krolia’s knees are instantly buckling with booming laughter, and Kolivan turns his head away with his fist over his mouth as his shoulders shake.

“Okay. We’re out of here,” Keith grumbles. With the mood thoroughly ruined for the night, he tugs on Shiro’s hand to get him to start moving in the direction of the entrance.

“Keith?” Krolia stops him, and Keith pauses to look over his shoulder. Both of Krolia’s hands are in Kolivan’s, now, and he’s pulling them up to rest them both upon his chest. He gazes down at her with enough devotion and helpless love that Keith can’t help but see just a little bit of Shiro in him.

“Yeah, Mom?”

Krolia nods towards Shiro and smiles. “You chose a good mate.”

Shiro perks up beside him, and Keith grins.

“You too, Mom.”

**Author's Note:**

> A HUGE THANK YOU to [Nautilicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nautilicious/Works) here on AO3, who beta'd this fic singlehandedly after I dropped it on them at, like, two in the morning. I truly could not ask for a more dedicated beta reader. 
> 
> If you liked this fic, please consider checking out my other [assorted oneshots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inky/works). As always, you can follow me on [twitter @weavelle](https://twitter.com/weavelle) or [tumblr](https://weavelle.tumblr.com).


End file.
